Assumptions and the Word All
by Worldmaker
Summary: The Scoobies get a lesson in unintended consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Assumptions and the Word "All"**

**XxxxxxX**

"_Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they __**could**__ that they didn't stop to think if they __**should**__!" – __**Dr. Ian Malcolm**__, (Jeff Goldblum), _"Jurassic Park"

**XxxxxxX**

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

Vi was doing the driving while Xander navigated. It wasn't like he couldn't drive anymore, but his limited field of view combined with the occasional vertigo while moving at car speeds caused by his lack of depth perception meant that he only did so when strictly necessary. This mission was a simple one: find the newly activated Slayers in the greater Los Angeles area. Thus, wasn't strictly necessary. Hence, Vi doing the driving.

Willow's spells indicated that there were five brand new Slayers in Los Angeles. So far, they'd been to two different high schools, a middle school, and a house out in Tarzana. The girls in question (and their families) had been alternately thrilled, scared, excited, and horrified by the revelation of their new destinies as fighters in the war against supernatural evil. And now they were here. At the Hugh and Hazel Darling Law Library on the campus of UCLA. Not the usual place one goes to find a teenage girl.

"That's what the medallion says." Xander looked around at their surroundings. The UCLA campus was a mixture of classically styled buildings and more modern construction, and students were everywhere. He looked at the medallion that Willow had enchanted into a Slayer detector. "See?" He held the medallion up so his companion could see it. Rather than hanging normally, the heart-shaped charm was pulling visibly toward the building.

"Yeah, but…" Violet stopped talking. Her jaw still worked up and down for a moment, as if she was chewing on what to say. "Well, this is different at least. At least it isn't another Junior High School where they look at us like we're child molesters."

"Good point." Xander shrugged his seatbelt off and opened his door. "We'll go in and see what's the what, and find our newest Slayer, and then go get Chinese food. I'm starving and a big plate of Cashew Chicken wouldn't go to waste."

Violet's eyes widened. Trust Xander to bring up the good stuff. "Good plan."

Exchanging nods, the Scooby and the Sunnydale Slayer entered the library, intent on finding their last Slayer.

**XxxxxxX**

There were several young women in the Law Library, but the medallion didn't react to any of them. Not only were none of them a Slayer, most of them looked at Xander as if he was a unique species of fungus when he got close enough to check.

"Houston, we have a problem." Violet sighed. "We're now backtracking ourselves. We've been walking in circles for a while now."

Xander scratched the back of his head and echoed Vi's frustrated sigh. "Yeah, I think our Slayer is moving around, and she's not moving around in a small area. It's almost like she's playing hide and seek with us. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was trying to visit the entire library in turn." He looked at the medallion carefully as it swung from one direction to the other. Then it stopped.

"She's stationary. Let's move!" Xander scrambled through the stacks as quickly as possible without attracting too much attention, Violet at his heels.

"I think she's at the librarian's desk. It's in that direction!" The pair cleared the last shelf and turned toward the librarian's desk that oversaw this section of the library. The first two times they passed it, there hadn't been anyone there. Now there was.

Xander and Violet stopped in their tracks. They looked at the woman they'd come here to talk to, and then back at each other. Violet shrugged, then looked back at the librarian. "What should we do, Xander?" Violet asked in a desperate whisper.

"I, uh, I mean, it doesn't seem… I've never heard of… " Xander stopped talking. "Okay, we're going to talk to her, just as if this situation were a normal one. She's a Slayer, and she doesn't know it, which means she's in danger. I'm not going to leave a Slayer ignorant about vampires and demons."

He drew himself up to his full height and, as casually and non-threateningly as possible, approached the librarian's desk. The woman, whose name and position was "Suzanne Flotte, Research Librarian" according to the metal plate on her desk, continued tapping commands into her computer using a slow-but-steady hunt-and-peck system. She still hadn't seen Xander. He waited for a moment for Ms. Flotte to notice him, then waited for another moment, before finally venturing a polite, "Excuse me, Ms. Flotte?"

The woman turned and smiled up at Xander. Her smile was lopsided, but friendly. Xander took the woman's look in one glance. Suzanne Flotte had to have been the oldest newly activated Slayer they'd found. While most of the new Slayers had been between fifteen and seventeen, there were some outliers. One of their new Slayers had only been nine, while the oldest one so far had been nineteen. But she was definitely not nineteen. Her hair was cut conservatively and professionally, and was almost a brassy red. Her eyes were intelligent and twinkled.

She was also short. Even while she was sitting down, Xander could tell that if she stood upright, she wouldn't top five-foot one. But it wasn't her height that really caught Xander's attention.

"Ihth pronownthed 'flottee'', nod flowtay. Nay ah help oo?" No. What really caught Xander's attention was the woman's electric wheelchair, and the fact that the woman's entire body was clenched like a fist. Her left arm was held tight against her body, useless for any sort of fine work. The woman was only using her right arm, and even then it was clear that fine motor control did not enter the picture.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Flotte." He pronounced it correctly this time. "Ms. Flotte, my name is Xander Harris, and this is my associate, Violet Day. We need to talk to you about a very urgent matter. And I promise you, no matter how strange or unusual this sounds, we're telling you the truth. Could we have a few minutes of your time? Afterward, if you want us to, we'll leave you alone."

Suzanne Flotte stared up at Xander from her wheelchair. The twinkle never left her eyes, but her mouth screwed up into a lopsided bow. Xander became convinced that she was going to refuse.

"Ohkhay. Come wid me to da schtaffrum."

**XxxxxxX**

"Mission accomplished, G-man!" Xander stretched as best he could in the front seat of the car. They were headed back home, and Xander could already feel the creaky bones caused by days stuck in a car. "We got them all."

"That's wonderful, Xander. I'm glad you didn't face any problems."

That caused Xander to smile. "Oh, I wouldn't say there wasn't any problems. Just that we talked to all the new Slayers. Which reminds me. Can you have someone look into what's left of the Potentials file for the name Suzanne Flotte? F-L-O-T-T-E. Pronounced 'flottee' and not 'flowtay,'

"Certainly, but why?" Xander heard Giles to turn to one of his staffers and mumble some set of directions. "Is there something wrong?"

"Well, I wouldn't really call it wrong. It's just unusual. For one thing, she's thirty-four. Have you ever heard of a thirty-four year old Slayer?"

"Um, no. No. In the history of the Slayer, the oldest who was ever called was Nicky Wood, Robin's mother. She was twenty-one. We've always assumed that if they weren't called before that point, they never would be."

"Right. And then Willow upsets the apple cart by activating all the potentials. All the potentials. Not just the potentials under twenty-one." Xander shook his head at the implications. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that Suzy isn't going to be our strangest case. And this one is pretty strange."

"What do you mean? Her age?"

"Well, her age and the fact that she, uh, well, she's disabled. She's got something called "cerebral palsy" and is in a wheelchair permanently."

"She's what?" Xander could hear Giles surprise.

"Yeah, she's in a wheelchair and doesn't have a lot of fine motor control over her own body. From what she told me, it's like her brain is on overload and has clenched her entire body into one big fist."

"Extraordinary. Hold on…" Giles said something more to someone on his side of the line, then returned. "Oh dear. Xander, she's listed in the Special Contingency file."

"Special contingency file?" Knowing the old Watcher's Council, being a potential who was considered "special" couldn't be a good thing. "Care to explain?"

"Xander, the Special Contingency file, well, you see, the Council looked at Slayers like they were disposable weapons, not individual people. And you know we're trying to change that. But –"

Xander didn't like where this was going. "What was the special contingency, Giles?"

"The Special Contingency file was a list of potentials who were marked for immediate termination if it was determined that they had become active Slayers." Xander could feel the shame pouring through the cellphone. "These were girls that the old Council had ruled would be useless as slayers. I was always told that these were young women who had already shown they weren't morally capable of assuming the duties of protectors of humanity; child psychopaths and the like."

"But in Suzanne's case it would have been because –"

"Because she couldn't be an effective fighter, yes." Giles finished for him. Giles cleared his throat, one of the usual tells the older gentleman used when he wanted to change the subject. "So, at least we have four new Slayers coming to headquarters, and at least Ms. Flotte is aware of the supernatural. We're going to have to let the team we eventually assign to Los Angeles permanently to keep an eye out for her."

Xander almost chuckled. "Not necessary, Giles. We have five Slayers coming. I sort of offered Ms. Flotte a job. She's coming back to the castle."

"But…"

"Giles, she's not only a Slayer, she's a licensed attorney and has a PhD in library science. Tell me we can't use someone with those skills? You'll not only have a great researcher, but she'll be a great researcher who can relate on a personal level with the other Slayers." In the driver's seat, Vi started to say something, but stopped when Xander held up a hand. "She's a Slayer, and we take care of our own. Vi's already said that she'd be willing to teach Suzy all the combat techniques she's capable of. Might not be much, but she'll be better off for it."

"Ah… I see. Yes, all right. That seems reasonable."

"Okay, we're about to it the highway. I'll call you again when we stop for the night. And Giles?"

"Yes, Xander?"

"Try not to think about all the potentials who would have made even worse slayers than Suzy. At least Suzy is happy and stable. We could have ended up with someone like that Eileen what's her name, the serial killer. Talk to you later."

He closed the cell phone, then leaned back in his seat, just feeling the way the road felt under the car.

Violet kept sneaking glances at him from out of the corner of her eye. At first he ignored it, but finally couldn't do it anymore. "Okay, what?"

"I can't believe you totally jinxed us like that! What were you thinking? 'Could be a serial killer!' Come on! Now that's totally going to happen!"

Xander's chin his the car's floorboard.

"Ah hell… what have I done?

**XxxxxxX**

**Author's Note:** It all belongs to Whedon and his people, not me.

**Author's Note the Second:** This story was inspired by and is dedicated to my beautiful, intelligent, and amazingly successful sister Suzanne, who hasn't let the depressingly long list of physical problems she suffers because of her grand mal cerebral palsy stop her from graduating from law school, which she did just this past weekend.

Suzy Q, your older brother loves you and is proud of you, and always has been. You inspire me to accomplish more than I would otherwise.


	2. Chapter 2

**XxxxxxX**

"_It is ability that matters, not disability." – Marlee Matlin_

**XxxxxxX**

Suzanne Flotte sat alone at her table in the lunchroom of the headquarters of the Watcher's Council International engaging in some people-watching. All around her, various Slayers, researchers, mystics, and more mundane employees of the Council took their midday meal. Suzanne had been with the Council for six years now, acting as head research librarian for the organization. In addition, she was one of the legal counsels kept on retainer, though she'd never personally been called on to act in that capacity.

She was being ignored by everyone around them. Suzanne was used to it; when she was a child, she craved being ignored since all the other kids stared at her. Then as a young adult, she despised being ignored. Now, she was just used to it. Besides, not everyone ignored her, just the people who didn't know her. It allowed her to people-watch; she would subtly pay attention to this or that person, listening in to other people's conversations. Suzanne supposed that it could count as snooping, but she never judged or reacted. She just observed. Everyone needed a hobby, after all.

It was by way of this sort of observation that Suzanne learned how she was perceived at the headquarters. To the other senior staff, she was a colleague to be trusted (and two Mr. Giles, Mr. Harris, and Ms. Rosenberg, she was a new friend in addition to being a trusted colleague). To the research staff, she was an odd genius who could figure out how to retrieve the most obscure fact. To the mystics she was a surprising and fascinating anomaly of reliable stability in their otherwise chaotic lives. To the building's staff, she was one of the nicer and personable of the senior staff. And to majority of the Slayers, she was a piece of mobile furniture they dismissed almost as soon as they looked at her.

To the _other_ Slayers, that is. Suzanne had been amazed to know that the number of people here at the headquarters who realized that the wheelchair-bound researcher was _also_ a slayer could be counted on both hands with finger's remaining.

Suzanne smiled up at the young man from the kitchen who carried her meal to her table. The dining room at the Cleveland headquarters of the Watcher's Council was set up like a cafeteria, not a restaurant, but because of her special circumstances, the staff were actually happy to accommodate her. She appreciated it. Balancing a lunch tray on her lap while she maneuvered her wheelchair could be tricky sometimes.

They'd even cut things into bite-size pieces for her. When Suzanne first arrived in Cleveland five years ago, she would have been tempted to see such an action as condescending or patronizing. But she'd long since talked to the various staff people, the cooks and the cleaning crews and the secretaries and the other "civilian" staffers who kept the place going, about the assistance they should feel free to render to her, and the assistance that she would ask for if she needed it. She'd asked for her food to be cut small so often that Amanda Rentas, the kitchen manager, had just told her they'd do it for her from now on without her having to ask.

She took a quick glance around the dining room. It was just after noon, and the room was pretty filled.

Years ago, her husband Daniel had designed a special tool for her, a sort of padded hook that she could fit other tools into. As long as it was light and fairly straight, it would fit. She could even put a pen in it to sign her name.

The fingers of her left hand were permanently splayed open, and as such she couldn't use it for anything but the broadest-stroke sort of work. She could push objects around with that hand, but couldn't pick things up or hold things. Naturally, she was born left handed. Not only had she had the problem of her CP to conquer when learning to right, she had to do it using a method of writing that was horribly rough. Naturally, her signature looked like someone was just squiggling randomly.

She had just speared a piece of her chicken with her fork when a shadow loomed over her. "Suzanne, do you mind if I join you?" It was Violet Day, her friend and one of the few Slayers who didn't ignore her, carrying lunch trays. Violet had made sure she was comfortable when Suzanne and her family had arrived in London, and had taken Suzanne under her wing as far as training her in what it meant to be a Slayer.

"Uh curse! Be my gesh!" She smiled her lopsided grin at them and waved vaguely toward the chairs. Her smile widened sheepishly when she realized that she was brandishing a piece of chicken at Violet. She popped the morsel into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and smiled again. "Howuh yoo dunn, Vi?"

"Tired. I've been with Daphne all day, trying to get her out of her shell." Violet shrugged, clearly defeated by the situation. "She's staying in her room and won't come out, and I'm beginning to get worried about her. I, uh, I wanted to talk to you about her, actually."

Suzanne concentrated. _Daphne… Daphne… Daphne… Oh yeah!_ "Schees duh schlayur hoo wvash henjort reshenlee?"

"Yeah. Fyarl got her with that spike they have, right through her spine. The doctors have released her from the hospital, but she's been moping. I've been trying to convince her that she can, you know…" Violet trailed off, her eyes flitting down to Suzanne's chair, then back up to the older woman's face.

"Yoor tryin to kunvensch hur dat hur liff ident obur jus cuz scheez en uh shayer?"

Vi nodded and shrugged. "I thought that if she could talk to you, see how hard you work and how much you contribute around here, and that even though she might not be able to go out on patrol, she still has a part to play."

"Vieyolett, ahm nah uh schaikolojuss. Ah doan no habowt dupressenn! Hwat ahm ah schpost tuh schai too hur?"

"Well, there has to be something you can say to her about how having a disability isn't a death sentence. She's acting like her life is over." Violet was clearly uncomfortable with what she was asking. On the one hand, Suzanne could see her point. On the other hand, what the hell was she supposed to do? As she told Violet, she wasn't a psychologist.

"Vi, juss bikuzz ah haff ah dizzablaty duzn meeh ah no huwat scheesh gong true. Izz nah lie ahl dizzabell pipple ah kloaz, yhoo no?"

"I know, I'm sorry. That was condescending of me." Suzanne nodded, but smiled to let Violet off the hook. "I just, I'd hate to see her just give up."

"Myah." Suzanne nodded slowly. "Ahn ah wonnda hepp, buh ah doan no how mush hep I welby. Schee may akshullee nah wann my hep aneemoh dan she wood wann yoahs." She took another bite of chicken.

"Yeah. Yeah, I get that. And again, I'm sorry for the entire –"

"Izz hokay." Suzanne smiled at her. "Scho, schangen da schubjek, ah heayah yoo ha ah daytuh? How ditt go?" Suzanne smiled as Violet's expression gentled as other slayer thought about the young man she'd begun seeing. Funny to be around, romantic… sounded like a good package. Suzanne turned her attention to some of the other tables, letting Vi ramble about… Ron? Don? John? Whatever his name was. She gave Vi encouraging noise while she ate and –

"Hwaddah FUKK dih schee jussay?!" Suzanne stared at the far table, ignoring Violet's shocked expression. In the six years since Suzanne had started working at the London headquarters, people had heard her swear maybe twice.

"Suzy? You okay? What's up?" Violet was shocked.

"Wonn sekk. Juzz ovahurt sumpsink bad. Ahvuh gah tokk to sumpwann." Suzanne took her fork off her hand and hit her electric wheelchair's controls. As she moved away, Violet could see the other woman was grinding her teeth. Suzanne steered her chair through the dining room toward a table in the back, unbuckling the strap that normally held her in the chair.

**XxxxxxX**

Rupert Giles sighed as he entered the dining hall. Normally he was too busy to actually take a break for lunch, but Andrew Welles, his self-appointed personal assistant, had threatened to call Buffy on him if he didn't take some time for himself. He walked through the food line, picked a sandwich and a glass of tea up, and looked around at the tables for a space. He finally lit on Violet Day, sitting at the table normally reserved for the Council's chief of research. The table was slightly higher than normal to accommodate Ms. Flotte's wheelchair.

"Good day, Violet. May I join you?"

"Hmm? Oh, Giles, hello. Yeah, sure, have a seat." Violet seemed distracted. She was watching something going on across the room. He followed her gaze to see his Chief of Researcher approaching a table around which sat six or seven of the Class B slayers; they were the "junior class" of slayers, and had just begun active patrolling under the auspices of a senior slayer. He'd been worried about their group, as one of their number had been permanently injured recently during one such patrol.

"Is something the matter, Violet?"

"Suzy said something about a counseling session then started moving."

Giles face went white. He had friends in the military who occasionally spoke of "blanket parties", wherein a slacking soldier, marine, or sailor was physically "disciplined" by his comrades. Counseling sessions were the same thing. He didn't approve of the practice, but he couldn't deny they worked. It was a fact of life that Slayers were violent, physical beings. It was another fact of life that occasionally when one of them violated some rule or standard of behavior that talking to them and restricting their privileges only went so far. Sometimes, and they'd found this out the hard way, just sometimes in order to bring the Slayers in line, one of the senior slayers had to intervene. Physically.

As he watched, Suzanne Flotte, normally such a quiet and unthreatening young woman drove her chair toward the table.

**XxxxxxX**

The girls quieted as Suzanne approached the table. Several had noticed her approach and had immediately dismissed her. That was fine. She ran her chair all the way up to the table, then turned it so she was facing the girl she wanted, and then moved as close as she could without touching the girl.

Suzanne recognized the girl now. Hungarian. Real stick up her ass. Couldn't remember her name. It didn't matter. "Hyoo." She pointed at the girl. "Hwadid hyoo juss schay?"

"What?" The girl's accent was present, but not insurmountable.

"Ah aschkt hyoo hwa hyoo jusch sedd."

The Hungarian girl stared at Suzanne a moment, then with an undeservedly haughty air, said, "I said that a slayer who couldn't walk was a useless cripple and that Daphne might as well just end it all for all the good she will ever do anymore. We don't have time to carry a useless cripple around. I said she's a deadweight. Useless." The girl sneered at Suzanne. "Useless like you, yes?"

"Hyeh, dazz hwa ah tawt hyoo sched." Suzanne's good arm lashed out. She really leaned into the strike, too, putting as much of her strength and weight and her inborn strength into it as she possibly could. The Hungarian girl – Suzanne still couldn't remember her name – was caught completely unaware. She rocketed out of her chair and slid a good ten feet before coming to rest against the nearest wall.

Before the girl had stopped moving, Suzanne pushed herself out of her wheelchair and did something only a handful of people at the headquarters knew she was capable of. She stood up. Suzanne had never liked doing it in public, because her balance was crap and she couldn't walk more than two or three steps before falling. She was much more stable when walking on her knees than she was standing up. But that's okay, she wouldn't need very much balance for this.

Suzanne stood up, shocking everyone in the room except Violet, took one step, and then shocked all the people watching even further. She bent at the knees as much as she could, then _jumped_. Suzanne somersaulted forward, dropping one of her sock-covered feet across the jaw of the Hungarian girl, who was trying to get to her feet.

Almost slithering, Suzanne rolled over onto her hand and knees and slithered up the other girl's body. Her target was dazed, but still capable of movement. Suzanne climbed up her body then stopped, sitting on the girl's chest. She leaned forward and put her left arm across the girl's throat. The Hungarian girl was bleeding from an obviously broken nose, and was clearly confused by what had just happened.

"Schay hyooschlesh haagn, hyro fukken bhesch! Ah dayr hyoo! Ah duhubble dayr hyoo! Schay hyooschlesh jusch hwonn moah tiyem!" Suzanne pulled her fist back, preparing to smack the dazed girl across the fist, but it was caught. She looked up into Violet's face, then down at her own wrist where Violet was holding her back.

"That's enough, Suzy, you made your point." Violet raised her voice so the entire dining room could hear. "I think everyone understands the point!" She pulled Suzanne to her feet, then lent balance so the researcher could return to her wheelchair.

Suzanne sat there, staring at the Hungarian girl and breathing heavy, before turning to Violet. "Fangs for hlunge, Vi. Ah hwell tok too hyoo hulaytr." She started to pull away, then stopped. "Vi, heiyell tok too Daphne for hyoo." And with that, she left.

Violet reached down and helped the still-dazed Hungarian girl to her feet. She examined the girl's face. Black eyes were coming, and her nose was flattened. "Get to the infirmary. Let Doctor Richmond see to your nose. You'll be all right . Oh, and keep your fucking mouth shut."

"The woman in the chair is a slayer, isn't she?" It was one of the Hungarian girl's tablemates.

Violet took a deep breath. "Yeah, she's a slayer. So is your classmate, Daphne. That makes them both family. That makes them a part of us. And we take care of our own. We don't discard them." She poked the Hungarian girl in the chest with a finger. "Get it?"

"Yeah, I get it. I go to infirmary now."

Giles had been keeping his distance, allowing Violet, as the senior slayer present, to handle it. "Should I even ask what that was about?"

Violet just shook her head. "Probably for the best not to. I think Habila won't be calling anyone useless for a while, though. Either that, or she'll be holding a grudge for a long time."

There wasn't much Giles could say about that.

**XxxxxxX**

**Author's Note: **It all belongs to Mutant Enemy. I just put the words together.

**Author's Note the Second:** I originally had no intention of continuing the story of Suzanne the Vampire Slayer, but my sister, upon whom I based the character, thought the story of Suzanne wasn't complete without letting her kick a little ass.

She's also made me promise that sooner or later, I'll write the story of Suzanne the Vampire Slayer going down swinging against the forces of darkness. But having based a slayer on my baby sister, I don't know if I can just kill her like that.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Wisdom is the reward for surviving our own stupidity." – Brian Rathbone_

**XxxxxxX**

It was hot. Xander, as a native of Southern California, thought he'd been through heat, but somehow South Florida was another level of heat entirely. It was, he eventually realized, all about the humidity. Dry heat is bad. Damp, overwhelming, stuffy heat with no breeze and no way for your sweat to evaporate, was so much worse.

At the rental counter, he'd heard someone talking about how there was a reason a Floridian invented air conditioning. It all made sense to him now. The mid-sized rental that Willow had waiting for him and Vi when they arrived at Miami International Airport had air conditioning (the clerk at the Avis counter had looked at Xander funny when he asked about it, as if it was a stupid question to doubt that _any_ car might not have air conditioning), but it had taken three or four minutes for it to really get going. In that short amount of time, the heat had literally bathed the pair in sweat under their clothing.

It was still early enough that they technically could have gone to find the next Slayer on their list, but both he and Vi had instead decided that the better part of valor was the rule of the day. They found their hotel, checked in, and spent the next hour alternately napping and downing entire bottles of water in an attempt to rehydrate and recover from the savage Florida sun.

"Well, some things never change." Xander said to himself as he played with the television's controls. He'd stripped down to nothing but his boxers and a tank-t (Xander refused to even consider thinking the word 'wife-beater' under any circumstances; the concept was ugly and he wanted no part of it) and was wasting time as Violet took her shower. He was bored, and was beginning to regret begging off her invitation to join her. "Local news, Spanish channel, Spanish channel Spanish channel, Spanish channel. Jesus, how many Spanish channels do they have in Miami? Weather Channel. Soap Operas. Wait, a Golf Channel? Oh hey, this is cool!" He leaned back on the bed and watched Ahnuld fire a mini-gun at the LA police while Edward Furlong and Joe Morton opened up the Vault at Cyberdyne.

"Oh, Terminator! Cool! I thought I heard gunfire." Xander turned and smiled at Vi. She'd become much less the wilting wallflower since becoming a Slayer, but had apparently always been as big a geek as he was. Video games, movies, comic books… she was cool. It was their mutual interests that kick-started their friendship, and their mutual enjoyment of those interests, plus long talks and a lot of time spent together, that had elevated the friendship into a something more.

"Yep. It's a classic." He trailed his eyes down her body, appreciating the view from behind as she dried her hair with a towel. "So, the pool looked good. You wanna?"

"Pfft! Sure. Look at me, Xan. See this?" She turned, allowing him a complete view of her from scalp to toes. "This is what cosmetologists call 'milky white skin'. You know what the sun is going to do to me if I go to the pool?"

"Sun won't be up all day. We can go once it's dark." He shrugged.

She turned back to the mirror and he turned back to the television. "That's a plan. You thought about dinner yet?"

"Not really. We passed about eight dozen restaurants on our way here. Plus we could always call a pizza in." Done attending to her hair, she crossed in front of the television, heading toward their suitcases. His eyes naturally followed her for a moment before coming back to the TV. "Got a taste for anything?"

"More like there are things I'm not in the mood for. Don't want Chinese. We have too much of that already. Not really into Mexican. Besides, can you imagine the Mexican food here? It'd be like eating seafood in Montana. Eww." She shrugged herself into a sports bra and panties, then pulled a t-shirt on. The shirt was white with black sleeves, and on the front was the symbol for pi, beneath which was the number itself written out to ten thousand places, ending in the words "oh whatever…" Violet Day was not afraid to let her geek flag fly, and that was one of the reasons Xander had come to love her. The shirt was followed by a pair of blue jeans. Yet another reason why Xander thought she was terrific. She dressed like a guy. No nonsense, just get your clothes on and be done.

She stepped to him, planted a light kiss on his forehead, and sniffed. "Right." She dragged him to his feet by pulling gently on his arms. "All this talk about dinner, Xander, and I note you've yet to hit the shower yourself. You go get clean. I'll go ask the girl at the front desk for some recommendations. Scoot!"

"Auf einmal, meine Dame!" He grinned at her, but allowed her to push him into the bathroom. She returned the grin with glee.

"Hey, no snark in German. Bad little boys who snark in German don't get lucky with their girlfriends after they get out of the pool!"

**XxxxxxX**

The drive to Miami Shores took half an hour. As neighborhoods went, it was more upscale than Xander thought it would be. It felt like the shabby upscale. Not exactly run down, but definitely an era that might have been the height of chic back in the day, but now had become the place the folks with money who never realized South Beach was happening still lived. It didn't have the same elite feel as Isleworth or Coral Gardens, which was potentially a good thing.

Vi pulled the car to a stop just short of the driveway. The address that Willow had given them turned out to be a white stucco building that screamed "Art Deco". It was all blocks and curves, with tall windows made of green glass, the kind they used to make Coca-Cola bottles out of. It had an oval cupola running through its center, and three stories. Each of the lower stories, had flat, rooftop decks with white bannistered guard-rails.

"Wow. That is some house." Vi stared at it. "You could put the house I grew up in inside that thing and still have room left over."

"Yeah, mine too." Xander was wincing for some reason. He pulled the charmed medallion out of his pocket and strung its chain between his fingers. The medallion itself swung free below his hand. Xander murmured a few words, and the medallion began pulling itself toward the house behind the fence. "Well, we definitely have a Slayer, all right. What are the odds that a teenage girl growing up in that house isn't going to turn out to be Cordelia Chase with superpowers?"

"No idea. Better prepare yourself." Vi pulled into the drive, close enough to reach the intercom, and pressed the button. She noted as she did so that the security camera was dead on her face.

After a moment, she was answered. "Yes? May I help you?" A woman's voice. No telling how old, but not hesitant. Possibly the new Slayer's mother.

"Yes, hello. My name is Violet Day. I'm an instructor and recruiter from the Joyce Summers School in Ohio. My associate and I would like to talk to…" Vi checked the note-pad with the information Willow had given them. "Angelique Garrett and her parents, if we could? It won't take long."

There was a long silence. When the woman's voice sounded again, there was an undercurrent of polite amusement. "Angelique and her parents. Well, I suppose you should come up then!." There was a buzzing sound and the gate swung open and away.

The yard was immaculate, and studded with palm trees. There was an artificial pond in the front yard that had koi in it. Roses were planted along the walk. "This might be the most feminine front yard I've ever been in," Xander remarked.

"Don't feel threatened." Vi smiled at him and gave his hand a quick squeeze. She opened the trunk and pulled out two leather-bound notebooks and a handful of pamphlets. The pamphlets were professional quality, and detailed life at the Slayer school in terms that skirted the truth but didn't come out and say it. If the parents seemed amenable, the truth came out later. The pair walked to the front door and rang the bell. Immediately from inside the house they could hear a rapid, high pitched barking.

"Rosie! Shush!" The shout came from inside the house, and was the same voice as on the intercom. Shortly thereafter, an older woman opened the door. 'Stately' was the first word that occurred to Violen, followed by 'majestic' and 'handsome.' The woman was taller than Violet, and was strikingly beautiful despite obviously being in her 60s, in the same way that Katherine Hepburn was right up until the day she died. She was dressed all in white, from her blouse to her pants to her shoes. In her arms, she held a gold-furred Chihuahua, the long-haired kind.

"Good morning." She said. She opened the outer door, then pushed open the screen door, but did not actually step outside. "May I see some identification, please?" The dog growled at the two intruders into its holy domain, and the woman shushed it again.

"Uh, certainly!" Violet fished her driver's license and his professional identification, the one that announced her as an Associate Vice President of Recruitment and Student Enrollment at the Joyce Summers School, out of her purse and handed them to the woman. She noted with approval that the woman gave them more than just a cursory glance before handing them back. Then she did the same with Xander's identification.

"Well, at least your identification says you are who you say you are." With that, the woman stepped back, offering a clear invitation without verbally making one. Again, Violet approved. They stepped into the house and immediately the heat and humidity so prevalent in Florida disappeared. _Air conditioning,_ Violet thought to herself, _may well be the greatest invention in the history of mankind, bar none._

"So, you need to talk to Angelique. All right." The woman led them into a breakfast nook with a small round table. "Please, have a seat. Could I get you something to drink? Iced tea, perhaps?"

"That would be great, thanks." Xander said as he sat down. Violet used the time the woman took getting them iced tea to take in the house. It was immaculate, and homey, with knick-knacks everywhere. There was a definite dolphin motif going on. Dolphins everywhere. One cabinet, visible from where she was sitting in the dining area, contained trophies. Lots of trophies; each trophy was topped by a little gold woman in a martial arts gi. The kitchen immaculate, and likewise decorated in the dolphin motif. It seemed there was a place for everything and everything in its place. Above the kitchen's center island hung a pot rack, and there was an even row of appliances on the counters.

Violet had to admit that it didn't look like the typical sterile rich person's house you saw in the soap operas.

"So, you said your name was Violet Day?" The woman put a glass in front of Violet, and another in front of Xander, before sitting herself. She took a sip of the tea in her own glass and looked at Xander. "And your name was Alexander Harris?"

"Yes, ma'am. Xander, though."

"Xander, then. Nice to meet you, I'm Angelique Garrett."

"What? But…" Violet stammered. It wasn't good, the stammering. It only happened when she was nervous or put on the wrong foot.

"Um. Excuse us, Ms. Garrett, but we were expecting a teenager."

"Yes, well." The woman's – Angelique's – eyes glittered with humor as she shrugged. "I'm sorry to not tell you before you were in the house, but I figured that since you were going to go back to Ohio in disappointment, I'd at least give you a chance to get out of your rental car and take a break for a minute."

"But, uh, ma'am…" Violet began

"It's all right. You can call me Angelique."

"Angelique. We, uh, this is going to sound strange, and like an invasion of privacy even, and I'm sorry, but is there someone else in the house?" Violet blurted it all out at once.

"No. I've lived alone since my husband died twelve years ago." Angelique Garrett took another sip of her tea. The older woman cocked her head at Violet and her eyes narrowed. "You were expecting a… oh my." She smiled. "I get it now. You were expecting a teenage girl, perhaps? This all makes sense! You're Watchers! Yes! Yes! I'm who you're looking for!"

"Um… Angelique, I'm sorry if…" Xander began.

"No, let me explain, please." Angelique Garrett held a hand up. She counted things off her fingers, one by one. "First, I started getting the dreams again. One was especially vivd. This voice asked me _Are you ready to be strong?_ Second, I was breaking things accidentally. Third, my appetite has doubled. Fourth, my jogging time has increased by a country mile! And last, I'm sixty-seven years old and I feel like I've got the energy I had when I was in my forties. I wondered what happened and only figured it out about a week ago."

"What did you figure out?" Xander asked.

"Well isn't it obvious? I've been Chosen! I'm the new Slayer!" She took another sip of her tea and grinned at the pair. "Who knew? I mean, at my age?"

"You know about the Slayers?" Violet asked, confused by the situation.

"Why, yes, of course, I do? I'm surprised you don't have a record of me in the files." She rose and refilled her glass with tea and ice. "I was a Potential, being trained by Robert Rogers. He took me in back in… hmmm… I was 14, so that would be 1961? Anyway, I trained with him until I turned twenty-three, which was in 1969."

"What happened when you turned twenty-three?" Violet finally remembered she had iced tea in front of her, and downed half the glass at once."

"It was actually a pretty special night. Robert took me out to dinner, a really fancy dinner, and explained to me that I had passed the age by which any known Slayer had ever been Chosen. He then said that since I wasn't going to be a Slayer, if I wanted he could arrange a position for me working for the Watcher's Council in some capacity. Apparently, many of the women working for the Council were former potentials. I certainly never expected to finally be called at my age."

"So you went to work for the Council?" Violet asked.

"Oh, no. I decided that since my great destiny as a Slayer wasn't going to happen, I'd build myself a new one. I ended up going to college – with the Council paying for it, of course. I go into broadcast journalism. I kept up with the martial arts, though." Angelique waved toward the trophy case. "Those are all mine," she said with a huge smile.

But suddenly the smile suddenly dropped from Angelique Garrett's face, like a heavy weight dropped from a great height. "Oh lord… that poor girl. I was so caught up in feeling young again that I forgot what it meant to be Called as a Slayer. That poor girl. Can you… can you tell me about my predecessor? How long did she last as a Slayer? How did she die?"

"Um… Ms. Garret – Angelique – how to explain this." Xander began. "The rules have changed a bit since you were a Potential. Your immediate predecessor… her name is Faith Lehane. Currently, she's in Cleveland, guarding the active Hellmouth." Violet nodded when Xander caught her eye. "She's being assisted by two other Slayers, Colleen Bilson and Anna Ling."

"Wait. There are four Slayers?" The woman was wide-eyed.

"Actually," Violet tried to inject some cheer into her voice. "Actually, at last count, there were over twenty-two-hundred of us around the world. Xander and I and a few other teams are trying to find them all, explain what happened to them, and invite them to Ohio to train them. We're setting up a sort of Slayer School in Cincinatti."

"Twenty-two hundred of _us_? You said _us_? Does that mean…?"

Violet nodded and extended her hand. "Hi. I'm Violet, the Vampire Slayer. Nice to meet you, Angelique."

"The Vampire Slayer… How? I thought it was one girl? One girl in all the world. If I'm the Slayer, how is there another Slayer sitting in my breakfast nook drinking iced tea? How are there three other Slayers in Cleveland? They told me one girl!"

"And it was one girl, for the longest time. And then there was this prophecy – it's a long story. Just suffice to say that one girl because two girls. And then, the day you received your Calling, it became all the girls who could possibly become Slayers did become Slayers. The magic behind the Slayer was rewritten."

"_All_ the…" The shock she was feeling was written on Angelique Garrett's face. "What do you mean all of… you mean every Potential was called? Everywhere?"

Violet nodded.

"What do you want me to do? How can I help?"

"Well," Xander began. "I don't know, but maybe we can figure that out. How would you feel about moving to Cincinnatti?"

**XxxxxxX**

**Author's Note: **If you recognize it, it belongs to Marvel Comics, DC Comics, or else Mutant Enemy. If you don't, it's likely mine.

**Author's Note the Second:** Slayers Colleen and Anna appeared in the last episode of the series, _Chosen._ Colleen was played by Rachel Bilson, while Anna was played by Julia Ling, both of whom were just starting out as actresses, and both of whom have gone on to bigger and better things.


End file.
